ACT Vocabulary: Description

The museum frame was gilded, with a thin gold layer along every carved edge.

The museum stone was striated, with thin pale bands running side by side across the dark face.

The health-room chart showed a livid bruise, blue-gray under the skin of the painted arm.

The studio window was opaque, and the hallway lights did not show through the painted glass.

The school poster was a vivid red, bright enough to stand out from across the hall.

The studio sheet was transparent, and every line of the drawing beneath it could be seen.

The museum plaster was pallid, a faint color with almost no pigment in it.

The face in the school portrait looked sallow, yellow where the other portraits looked pink.

The runner's face in the health poster was florid, deep red across the cheeks after the sprint.

The portrait's cheeks were wan, nearly white beside the darker hair.

The clay mask in the studio was ashen, a gray closer to cinders than to brown.

The school paint was a drab brown, a dull mix of gray and tan.

The studio poster used a lurid green, so bright it seemed to vibrate against the black letters.

The museum banner was a mellow red, softer than the scarlet flag beside it.

The studio lamp was luminous, and the paper around it glowed without another light on.

The museum gem was radiant, and light came off its face in bright rays.

In the music room, the frequency of the fork was high, well above the piano's middle note.

The kitchen lamp gave the soup a green tint, a faint color that left when she carried the bowl to the window.

The museum bronze showed a green patina, a thin film across the cheeks of the mask.

The art-room cardboard was corrugated, with rounded ridges between flat grooves.

The museum armor was pitted, with small dark holes across the iron plate.

The studio brush was tapered, wide at the handle and narrow at the tip.

The kitchen kettle was bulbous, a round swollen body sitting over a short base.

The museum path on the map was sinuous, bending in smooth curves through the drawn garden.

The studio table showed the grain, dark lines running the length of each board.

The street banner was motley, stitched from red, yellow, and blue scraps.

The studio curtain was diaphanous, and the window frame showed through the thin cloth.

The street was hazy, and the shop signs faded in a thin mist.

The museum jar of water was murky, and the coin at the bottom could not be seen.

The studio speaker filled with crackle, a scratchy noise that covered the song.

The kitchen water in the glass was limpid, and the spoon behind it was easy to see.

The museum pool was crystalline, so clear that the tile pattern showed at the bottom.

The museum floor had a high gloss, and the ceiling lights shone back from the tiles.

The studio wall was matte, and the lamp made no bright spot on the paint.

The kitchen tiles had a green hue, blue-green in the daylight and deeper by the stove.

The museum glass threw a prismatic band on the wall, red through violet in a spread of colors.

The museum courtyard painting was verdant, every terrace covered in green leaves.

The school walls were buff, a dull yellow-beige above the darker trim.

The studio sand was dun, a dull gray-brown in the tray.

The museum painting used ebony for the cat, a deep black from nose to tail.

The kitchen cabinets were ivory, a creamy white next to the steel sink.

The museum print was sepia, brownish gray rather than black and white.

The studio sketch was monochrome, drawn only in shades of blue.

The kitchen walls were pastel, a soft pale blue rather than a deep one.

The museum pearls had a soft luster, a glow without a hard glare.

The street bench was weathered, its paint faded and the wood gray from sun and rain.

The kiln in the studio was incandescent, the clay inside glowing orange from the heat.

The studio candle was lambent, a soft flame moving lightly on the wick.

The museum sequins were scintillating, throwing quick flashes under the lamp.

The studio veil was gossamer, so thin that the face behind it showed through.

The street lights were blurry, each one a cloudy glow with no hard edge.

The studio scarf was translucent, and the collar beneath it could be seen.

In the health poster, a flush rose in the boy's cheeks, a clear red after the cold run.

The kitchen grater left her knuckle abraded, red and sore where the skin had rubbed away.

The museum shoes were polished, and the leather threw back a smooth shine.

The studio couch was threadbare, and pale threads showed through the dark cloth.

The street sign was gaudy, with cheap bright letters in colors that clashed.

The street booth sold tawdry beads, bright and cheap-looking in the sun.

The studio red was unmixed, a pure strong color with no gray mixed in.

The street music was muffled, quiet and unclear behind the shut shop door.

The kitchen kettle was shrill, a high thin sound that cut across the room.

The street whistle was strident, loud and harsh beside the quieter horns.

The street horn was raucous, a rough blast that covered the softer bells.

The museum bell was resonant, a deep tone that kept sounding after the strike.

The two street horns were dissonant, their notes clashing in a harsh mix.

The museum gong was sonorous, a full deep sound that filled the hall.

The studio speaker was tinny, a thin metallic sound with no low notes.

The street singer's low note was guttural, a harsh sound scraped out of the throat.

The studio recording was nasal, as if the voice were coming through the nose.

The singer in the studio sounded husky, her voice low and rough at the edges.

The studio singer's high notes were reedy, thin and piping instead of full.

The radio host's voice was gravelly, low and rough from the first word to the last.

The note from the street horn was brassy, loud and metallic as it hit the shop windows.

The kitchen timer was piercing, a high thin beep that filled the room.

The studio door was grating, a harsh scrape each time it crossed the sill.

The street musician's note was toneless, an empty echo with little fullness.

The school announcement was a monotone, one pitch held from the first word to the last.

The studio piano passage was staccato, each note short and separate from the next.

The kitchen steam was sibilant, a soft hiss along the edge of the pot.

The studio fan produced a drone, a low steady hum under the music.

The street market was clamorous, a loud confused noise of bells, carts, and calls.

The studio melody was lyrical, a flowing tune with no spoken words.

The museum gong was plangent, a loud tone that rolled and echoed in the stone room.

The street drum kept a steady cadence, the same pattern of beats from the corner to the light.

She touched the studio string lightly and drew a harmonic, a faint high tone above the open note.

The choir note sat in a high register, near the top of the singer's voice.

The studio piece stayed in a minor key, and every note belonged to that same family of tones.

In music class she played a scale, notes stepping upward one by one from the first tone.

The studio piano sounded a chord, several notes struck at the same moment.

The studio singer's last note was sagging, a little under the piano's matching tone.

The street whistle was squeaky, a little above the horn's usual note.

The studio trumpet was silvery, a clear high tone above the darker horns.

The museum reds were ruddy, leaning toward yellow rather than toward blue.

The studio shadows were bluish, a blue-green rather than a reddish gray.

The museum ink was dark, a blue so deep it looked nearly black.

The kitchen pan was lackluster, and the overhead lamp made no bright spot on the metal.

The studio sandpaper was gritty, and it caught on her fingertips.

The studio lamp was dim, and the colors looked gentle rather than glaring.

The potter's thumb was callused, the skin thick and hard where the wheel had rubbed.

The kitchen brushes were rigid, and the bristles stayed straight when she pressed them.

The kitchen pencil was rounded, and it left a wide gray mark instead of a fine point.

The studio blade was honed, and it split the paper along a clean line.

The kitchen tile was slick, and her shoe slid on the wet surface.

The kitchen pan was oily, and a clear film clung to her fingers.

The studio mannequin's face looked waxy, smooth with a dull even sheen.

The old studio apron was leathery, thick and creased like a hide, though it was cut from heavy cloth.

The kitchen cloth was clammy, cool and damp and a little sticky against her palm.